Letters to the Past
by MadBrilliant1880
Summary: When Buffy comes to teach at Hogwarts, she is intrigued with the hidden drawer in her desk. The perfect place to hide things. But she's not the first DADA professor to think so...
1. September 1, 2005

I own nothing. Sometimes it's just fun to play in someone else's sandbox.

Letters to the Past

September 1, 2005

It had been two years since we had closed the Hellmouth in Sunnydale when I went to teach at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. But I guess I really shouldn't begin there. It feels as though I'm skipping parts. I should start at the beginning.

After Sunnydale collapsed, Dawn and I went to Rome. It was always one of those places we had said we would visit if we ever got the chance, so when Faith and Robin went to guard the Hellmouth in Cleveland, my sister and I decided it was the perfect time to go to Italy. With money from the newly reforming Watcher's Council, we got an apartment and I enrolled Dawn in high school so she could get her diploma.

But even in the company of my sister, I was horribly lonely. The Scoobies and I had never really forgiven each other for the actions each of us had taken in those last months against the First, and even before that, really, and I doubted heavily that our relationships would ever improve. They hadn't even asked where I was going the last time we parted ways.

I didn't speak any Italian, and I was loathe to learn, so I began a journal. I had kept one most of my life, but after the First had become an issue, I hardly ever had time to write. Luckily, when I had packed my bag that night before the final battle, I had taken those books with me. There were seven of them, most chronicling my slaying. Giles wanted me to write a book about the things the Scoobies and I had done, claiming it might help the future generations of Slayers, but I didn't want to do that. Those experiences were ours and ours alone. To share them seemed wrong somehow. Perverse. And things in my life were twisted enough.

By the time Dawn had graduated, I had filled another book with the things that had happened that last year in Sunnydale. She got a scholarship to Oxford, so we moved to merry ole England. She lived in the dorms, so I took a flat across from the new Council building and was content, in a manner of speaking, to become Giles' secretary. And that was fine for about three months, but after that, my natural Slayer senses were making me jumpy. So much for my retirement.

It was early afternoon and I was just copying down some of the phone calls Giles had received when the phone rang again. It was the Wiccan girl at the front desk of the building, telling me that a strange old man was there to see Giles. I told her to go ahead and send him up.

It didn't happen often, but occasionally, we did get an assassination attempt. One of the many reasons I think Giles enjoyed me sitting at a desk in front of his office. Generally speaking, I can tell when the person coming in is a Big Bad trying to get rid of the Head of the Council. Even if that were to happen, there's someone to take his place until the girl he wants to train finishes school. But I don't want to see her come to that power for a long time yet. I'm just not emotionally ready to protect my sister from assassination attempts. Nor am I ready to assume the position myself until she's done with school.

But, nonetheless, I had planned to tell Giles to get one of the younger Slayers to answer his phone because I was ready for active duty again. However, all my thoughts flew out the window when I saw Giles' visitor.

He appeared to be an elderly man in age, but he walked with a distinct bounce in his step. He was tall, thin, and very old, judging by the silver of his hair and beard, both of which were long enough to tuck into his belt. He was wearing long purple robes with crescent moons and stars embroidered on them, silver buckled boots, and spectacles. He had bright blue eyes that twinkled when he looked at me.

"Hi," I said brightly. "You didn't have an appointment, did you? Because if you did, I don't seem to have it written down." I was trying to play the part of the ditzy secretary to suss out his intent, but judging by the look in the man's sparkling eyes, he wasn't buying it.

"I had no appointment. I was actually unaware that I might need one," he said with a small smile.

I motioned to the cream colored loveseat against the wall across from my desk. "Well, why don't you give me your name and have a seat and I'll see if Giles can meet with you," I said.

He told me his name and I stood, leaving the desk and entering Giles' office, shutting the door gently behind me.

My former Watcher looked up from his huge leather bound tome in surprise. I hardly ever barged into his office without using the intercom to announce myself first. I'd like to think I had grown up a tiny bit.

"Hey, there's a guy out there to see you named Albus Dumbledore. If Merlin and Gandalf had a love child, it would totally be this guy," I said quietly, so the man in the outer office wouldn't hear me as I stood before the desk. "Doesn't feel evil though."

Giles looked at me blankly for a moment before clearing his desk of books. "Show him in."

I nodded and went back out to the entryway. I motioned Dumbledore through to Giles' office Vanna White style and settled back into my chair.

It was April, and usually about this time, the Scoobies and I were preparing for an apocalypse. Since the defeat of the First, there had been an incredible lack of demon activity worldwide and I had no problems saying that I had been bored out of my mind for the past two years. Sad as it sounds, I was itching for someone to try to take over the world.

Twenty minutes later, I decided since there was no motion from the office, I was going to go to lunch. There was nothing else for me to do anyway. I called down to the Wiccan at the front desk, telling her she would need to hold the calls while I was out. Just as I hung up the phone, Giles opened the office door, his face grave and pale, and asked me to join them.

I sat down in the chair next to Dumbledore and looked between the two men in confusion. "What's the what?" I asked.

And the elderly man told me everything. About the Wizarding world. About the school he was the Headmaster of. About Tom Riddle, his name change, and his rise to power. About how the Potters, a prominent Wizarding family, had been killed, but their infant son had brought about the Dark Lord's downfall. And now he was back, recruiting demons, vampires, and wizards alike and was poised to attack the school where the sixteen year old Potter boy currently lived. And Dumbledore wanted a Slayer's help. Not just a Slayer, but me personally. Asked for by name. Not as a fighter, but as a strategist. A tactician.

I didn't hesitate. I didn't need to. It was one thing to attack adults, but some of the kids at Hogwarts were as young as eleven. No way some hyped up wizard with delusions of grandeur was going to slaughter them all I could help it.

From his robes, the man produced several maps. The interior of Hogwarts, the grounds, the countryside surrounding it, and the town next to it. He told me that he was the leader of a secret organization called the Order of the Phoenix and that they, along with the aurors from the Ministry of Magic, would be the ones to fight Voldemort's followers, the Death Eaters. And like any good leader, he had a spy amongst the bad guy's ranks. He told me he would send that man to the Council building that night so he could tell me the Dark Lord's battle plans to provide me with a jumping off place for my own.

The silence stretched out like an ocean between my former Watcher and I after Albus Dumbledore left us.

"I'm resigning as your secretary," I said abruptly. "I'm taking over the empty office across the hall. And until this battle planning gig is over, I want a personal assistant."

Giles rolled his eyes at me, but acquiesced, just as I knew he would.

When my visitor had arrived five hours later, Andrew Wells, my new assistant, led him into an office that, even though we had quickly decorated by cannibalizing other offices, looked like it had been used for months. I didn't want anyone thinking I was unqualified since I was a secretary up until earlier that day.

The maps had been tacked up on the walls for easy perusal and I was studying the one of the Hogwarts grounds.

The man was sallow, wearing black robes that made his skin appear paler than it probably was. He had black hair nearly to his shoulders and a hooked nose that looked as though it had been broken more than once. His mouth was set in a twisted scowl and his sable eyes glittered at me.

I think he was used to people cowering under his gaze, as he seemed mildly shocked when I looked at him completely dispassionately. But then he recovered.

"Miss Summers, I presume?" he said with a sneer.

I could have said something scathing or gotten defensive, but I chose to be an adult, considering what was at stake. "Yes," I replied simply. "Call me Buffy. And you must be the spy. I'm sorry, Dumbledore didn't tell me your name."

"Severus Snape," he said in his deep and silky voice. His dark eyes slid over me. "I must confess, when Albus told me I was going to meet with one of the longest living Slayers, I expected you to be bigger."

"Believe me," I said with a wide grin, "you aren't the first to have said that. But size must not mean much since I've been a Slayer for nine years now…" I trailed off and shrugged. "Anyway, what have you got for me?"

We spent the next two weeks in close contact, going over plans in defense of the school. Andrew flitted in occasionally, but his fear of Severus and his glaring and scowling kept him out fetching things for us more often than not. Coffee, Tea, Chinese food, whatever we could think of, really. I think we both enjoyed ordering the annoying boy around.

We worked out every scenario we could think of and one Sunday evening, two days before the Dark Lord wanted to mobilize, I laid out a plan that just might work.

"It's brilliant," he said in that sneering, snarky voice that I had gotten so used to. But there was something else in it this time. Grudging respect, perhaps? "But can you even pull off something of this magnitude? Albus had no intention of asking you to fight."

"Yeah, I know. This is called doing the right thing simply because it's the right thing to do."

I had Andrew call for all the Slayers over the age of 16 that had been deemed combat ready. It took almost no time at all and 15 minutes later, Severus and I stood in the largest banquet room in the Council building, facing almost two hundred Slayers and my former Watcher.

"Since you have been here in training, you have been taught not to take a human life because we aren't allowed to pass judgment. In nine years, I have held on to that belief, but the times have changed, and the world has a new crisis," I said, praying that at least some of them would understand the gravity of what I was about to say. "An evil man has declared war on the Wizarding world." An excited chatter ran through the group at this. Most didn't even know such a thing existed.

"He and his followers, dark wizards called Death Eaters, along with recruited demons and vampires, plan to attack Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry in two days time. A school full of children as young as eleven and as old as eighteen. They have an army six hundred strong and the good guys, the aurors and the Order of the Phoenix, only number one hundred and fifty. These Death Eaters will think nothing of killing the students of the school to get what they want. Their target is a powerful 16-year-old boy named Harry. Fifteen years ago, this baddie, Voldemort, killed his parents and now he's going for the full set."

I looked at the assembled group carefully. "The Death Eaters can't just be knocked out. They could easily be revived magically by their comrades and then be able to keep attacking. They will have to be killed."

I took a long deep breath. "I'm not going to make any of you go with me. I know that this goes against everything we've taught you. But I can't just sit back and know that there are children out there that are going to be at risk, innocent children, and do nothing. We all have a limit, something we would take a human life for, and I guess this is it for me. The world isn't black and white," I said, my voice cracking a little. "This is a war and children may be slaughtered just so this evil son of a bitch can kill a teenager. I know that there are always casualties in war, but those should never be a group of innocent kids. I refuse to let a bunch of students become collateral damage," I said vehemently. "Will any of you fight along side me?"

The room was silent as the grave and completely still for a good thirty seconds and I was starting to think I was going to be forced to rework our battle plan. But then, lo and behold, Amanda and the rest of the Sunnydale alum that hadn't been stationed elsewhere came up and took places at my back.

When Amanda, an accomplished fighter in her own rite and instructor to the younger girls, saw the shock and awe on my face, she put a comforting hand on my shoulder.

"Once, you led a bunch of normal teenage girls into the mouth of Hell and we emerged warriors. You did that. You've stopped the world from ending on more occasions than I even want to contemplate and you've died three times. And yet you'll run to the aide of people you don't even know without fear or hesitation," she said softly, but the room was so quiet, everyone could hear her words. "And I respect you for that. And for doing what you believe in regardless of how afraid everyone else is. So, I'm coming with you. And for what it's worth, I completely agree. Kids, innocents, should be saved, no matter the cost. You got another brilliant plan?"

I looked over and caught Giles' eye. "What? I need a plan? Can't I just be proactive with pep?" I snarked. "Of course I have a plan! A good one, with maps and everything."

Giles grinned and moved up to stand between the oddly quiet Severus and me. "I am with you as well."

That started a small chain reaction and I found myself with sixty-five Slayers, willing to fight for the wizard's cause.

I dismissed the rest of the girls and turned to Severus. "Show us what we'll be up against."

And he did. The evening of the battle came and we were as prepared as we were ever going to be. We were split into two groups. Amanda was leading twenty-five Slayers and Giles, placed just inside the doors of the giant castle-like school. I led the rest, stationed at the Hogsmeade entrance to the grounds. When the demons, vampires, and Death Eaters began surging through the school's terrain as soon as they had the cover of darkness, my group attacked them from the side.

I thought it would be harder to take a human life, a fact that would haunt me for weeks after the battle. But in their long black cloaks and silver masks, it was easier to write them off as the monsters they really were. My group swept through the grounds and I was proud and sickened by their lack of hesitation.

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Severus Snape tear off his Death Eater robes and declare his true allegiance once and for all. There were roars of disbelief and anger from his comrades, and like a pack of wolves sometimes turns on its weakest member, the silver masked figures turned on the traitor in their midst.

He dueled them all with precision and grace, but I made my way towards them regardless. Severus was my contact with the Wizarding world. Save Albus Dumbledore, whom I had only spoken with for an hour, he was the only wizard I even knew, and snarkiness and sneering aside, I liked him. He was a good man and I wasn't about to let him die if I could somehow prevent it.

There was only one wizard still attacking when I arrived. His hood had fallen back to reveal long, white-blond hair and he held his wand trained on the spy. Severus was writhing on the ground, face pinched with pain, his own wand lying more than six feet away, but he didn't cry out and give his tormenter that satisfaction.

The other wizard, however, was making enough noise for both of them. "When the Dark Lord defeats Potter," he was saying, "we will hang your broken body from the battlements as a warning to all those afraid to do the Lord's bidding. All this has been for naught, my old friend. The Dark Lord can never be defeated by a mere teenager. And all these muggle girls? They'll provide fine entertainment once the battle is over." He sneered as he leaned down close to Severus.

I moved into position behind him, readying my blood-soaked sword.

"I believe I will ask the Dark Lord for their leader. Perhaps you know her, Severus. Blonde. Exquisite body. I can hardly wait to see what she looks like writhing beneath me as I choke the life from her."

He began standing again and I saw him release the spell on Snape, and as he quickly waved his wand through the air, either preparing for another attack or the killing blow, I struck.

My sword had dulled over the course of the fight and stopped as it bit into the blond man's spine. He fell to the ground, his wand rolling from his grip as his hands scrabbled at his neck, trying to staunch the flow of blood. His mask had unseated itself in his graceless collapse to the grass and I stared into the grey eyes of the man I was killing. He had pointed, attractive features, but I wasn't fooled by his angelic countenance.

"The thing about bad guys," I said softly to him, knowing that even though the battle raged around us, he heard every word I spoke, "is that they never seem to realize that, while evil may triumph for a little while, it never actually wins."

I held my sword aloft and brought it down with all my strength. His head severed and rolled away on the bloody ground. I wiped the back of my arm over my forehead, both disgusted and resigned when it came away a sticky crimson.

Killing humans was messy.

I turned to find a wide-eyed Severus Snape still on the ground, staring at the headless body of the man that was about to cheerfully murder him. Holding out my hand, I called his name, drawing his attention to me for the first time.

His eyes were inscrutable, dark and fathomless as obsidian pools. There was nothing to say, so he grabbed my outstretched hand and I pulled him to his feet. I retrieved his wand and handed it back to him with a curt nod. He copied the gesture and we both turned back to the bloody battle at hand.

Two hours later, the remaining Death Eaters hastily retreated. Their leader was dead. The Slayer army had dispatched seventy five percent of the invaders, leaving most of the good guys inside the walls to deal with Voldemort himself.

When the battle was over, we left in a hurry, just as we had all agreed upon the night before. The wizards had earned their victory with blood, sweat, and tears stretched painfully over decades. None of us wanted any undue credit for doing the right thing, so we slunk off into the night and returned to the Council building.

It was three months before I heard anything else about the Wizarding world.

I had been out on a quick patrol of the city. When I came home to my flat, there was a large brown owl tapping at the window in my living room. I had been around Severus long enough to know that this was how wizards sent letters.

I opened the window and the bird flew in and settled onto my coffee table, holding out its stick-like leg so I could retrieve the rolled up parchment tied to it. It was a letter from Albus Dumbledore.

I was shocked but not displeased to find that he wanted me to teach the Defense Against the Dark Arts class for the coming school year. I thought about it long and hard as the owl watched me, waiting for me to pen my reply.

And that's how I got there. I had arrived early in the morning and had time to arrange my amazing classroom the way I liked it, with weapons and the many books I had brought with me from the Watcher's Council, before Severus Snape, the Potions Master, came and collected me for the Welcoming Feast. I sat between him and Dumbledore. We watched the students enter the Great Hall and there was hardly one among them that didn't shoot me a strange glance. Maybe it was because I didn't look that much older than them. Maybe it was because I was the only one in the gargantuan room that wasn't wearing a robe. Sure, my heather gray slacks and my white cashmere sweater stood out, but I had told Dumbledore when I had taken the position that since I was not a witch, I would not masquerade as one. The other staff members found it a bit scandalous, but what did I care?

When the Headmaster introduced me to the student body, he actually told them I was a Slayer! I mean, I knew the Wizarding community was aware of all things magical, ergo they knew of the existence of the Slayer, but to hear it like that, said so casually in front of so many people was like a hammer between the eyes for me. Dumbledore went on to say that I had lead one of the teams of Slayers at the battle with Voldemort and along with Professor Snape, had been responsible for the strategy that had allowed them to win the fight.

I received the first standing ovation of my life. I know I was blushing scarlet by the time Dumbledore had quieted them down.

For the first part of dinner, I was lost in thought. Was this what it would be like if I stayed in touch with the Wizarding world? Being heralded as a war hero? I won't bother denying that sometimes it got incredibly hard to keep sacrificing and saving the world and never have anyone acknowledge it. But I pushed these traitorous thoughts aside. I didn't need to dwell on crap like that! I didn't need recognition for the things I did. With that thought firmly in mind, I turned to Severus. He told me about more wonders of the Wizarding world, mainly about the school and how children were trained in magic. I was so jealous! It sounded like so much fun.

After the feast, I went back to my classroom. It was perfectly organized now, a feat without Andrew there, and so I decided to work on my adjoined office. It was pretty awesome. A small set of stairs set it apart from the classroom and a door on the opposite wall of the office led to my personal quarters, a large sitting room with a fireplace done in shades of blue and green, and a bedroom with an en suite bathroom colored with scarlet.

I sat at the beautiful dark wooden desk of the office, staring down at the black leather bound journal my sister had given me as a gift when I agreed to take the teaching position and the set of raven feather quills Severus had given me just before dinner. He was convinced I needed to learn to write with one and, even though it was charming, why bother when I had access to pens?

I heaved a dramatic sigh as I twirled the nubbed feather between my fingers. I opened the journal to the first page and carefully scratched out the date. My handwriting with the foreign object was better than I expected.

Well, tomorrow will be my first day as a Professor. I was a counselor at Sunnydale High almost three years ago, but there's just something daunting about being called 'Professor Summers." I'm not going to bother going all denial girl and say I'm not nervous as hell. I've never taught anyone but the potentials, and even then, I was only teaching them to slay. Only thing I'm qualified for, I'm sure. But then again…

I guess this really isn't any different. I helped to train the girls to slaughter evil and to become Slayers like me…this time I'm helping train students to fight the Dark Arts. Parallel, right?

Severus told me that the Ministry of Magic has never officially acknowledged Slayers because they are considered unstable creatures. CREATURES! Not even humans! He told me during the Welcoming Feast that Wiccans, Werewolves, and Slayers are considered, by Ministry standards, less. Lower than everyone else. Not as good.

No matter how I write it, it never sounds any better.

Funny to be considered so dangerous by the world at large. I'm so used to authority figures just thinking of me as a troublemaker or an irresponsible young woman. But other than Quentin Travers and his bumbling band of buffoons, no one has really classified me as 'dangerous.' Well, maybe Snyder… I don't want those girls to live with that kind of stigma, so I've decided to ask Giles to keep the interaction the Watcher's Council has with the Wizarding world to a minimum. Somehow I feel that, at this point in time with all the prejudice, the girls might be at risk.

Of course, the open fear they show the Wiccans and us is nothing compared to how they apparently treat werewolves. Albus told me that they're kept track of and hardly any can get jobs because people don't want to associate with them. They're treated with scorn and distain.

To think of Oz treated like that makes my blood boil! Sure, there are bad

Werewolves, Cough…Veruca…Cough, but there are bad muggles (Warren), bad wizards (Voldemort), bad wiccans (Amy), and bad Slayers (Faith), so being a bigot isn't going to change anything. Can't judge a whole group on the actions of a few and all that.

Man, you should have seen the fire in Dumbledore's eyes when he told me. Severus was just smirking at his plate, but I don't know if it was because of the subject matter or my indignation about what was said.

I think he harbors belief in things like that. Sometimes, I wonder if he views me as a monster as well. I don't think I really want to know. We have an understood respect for one another, born of two weeks of close contact and then life threatening situations. I wouldn't call us friends just yet, and I doubt we ever will be the best of buddies, but he is more so than any of the other members of the staff. He's also the closest to my age, if you can imagine that. There's over ten years separating us and he's the closest. I've been told that I'm the second youngest professor ever. Severus was the first, as he began teaching at twenty. It's hard to believe he's been doing it seventeen years.

Anyway, my first class is right after breakfast tomorrow. Slytherin and Gryffindor seventh years. I hear the rivalry between them is nothing short of brutal. I guess this will be the test, won't it?

I shut the leather cover of the book; vaguely impressed I had been able to write so long with a quill without screwing up.

I opened the secret drawer on the right side of the desk and laid the journal inside alone. I had decided earlier, when I had found it, that it would be the place for my personal effects while the left set of drawers could contain my teaching materials.

At first, I had thought the right side of my desk housed nothing, comprised of only a slab of wood, but in the flickering candlelight, I noticed seams within the piece. I sat down on the stone floor to examine it. With a bit of prying, I got it to open. A drawer that looked like it hadn't been used in years. A perfect place to hide things.

I gave one last look around my new office, the irony not escaping me that I had barely had been able to find a job in Sunnydale, but I was in London for only a few months…ok, a year…and had become an important member of the new Council, and now, a professor.

I crawled into bed, bemused by my thoughts. It was a strange world sometimes.


	2. September 1, 2001

September 1, 2001

Remus Lupin ran a pale, thin hand through his light brown hair. He had known at the offset that accepting the Defense Against the Dark Arts position as both a job and as a way to look out for Harry Potter would be taxing, but not right from the beginning. Sirius Black escaping from Azkaban…dementors on the train…Harry Potter in danger…

Ah yes, Harry. He was the spitting image of his father. Had the boy's eyes been closed, Remus might have even indulged in the fantasy of a young James Potter being alive, if only for a moment. But the boy's eyes were exactly like Lily's had been. Deep and piercing emerald.

And then his thoughts became more focused on something else. As he sat down at the desk in his new office, he thought of Sirius. How had it come to this? To think that they, the four of them, would be like this after all these years…James was dead. Sirius had killed Peter, and now he was after James's son, Harry. It was almost physically painful to think about. And Remus was the last of them. It was something that had haunted him for the past twelve years. It seemed like such a sad and unfitting end to all of his friendships.

Remus cleared away his lesson plans and spare quills, putting them in the left drawers of his desk. He needed to sleep. Even though he'd napped on the train, it was well after midnight and if he didn't retire soon, he would be a right mess for his morning classes.

As he slid his chair back along the smooth stone of the floor, the right vertical part of his desk caught his eye. When he had first come in to arrange his teaching materials, he had found it peculiar that one side of the desk had drawers while the other was just blank wood. But now, at this angle…

The man dug his fingers into the seam of the wood and yanked hard. His thin body was deceptively strong and after a few moments of straining, the wood moved. A hidden drawer.

Remus peered in and found it empty, except for one artifact. A large black leather bound book. He flipped to the front page.

"A journal," he murmured nonplussed until he notice the date on the top of the page. "2005!" he exclaimed. "That's impossible. It must be a mistake."

It seemed wrong, holding onto someone's journal like this, but since someone had left it behind, he saw no real moral problem with reading the entry.

His eyes widened as he read and by the time he was finished, they were bugging out almost comically. All the references to Slayers and werewolves had his mind spinning.

As a boy attending Hogwarts, he had often read about the Slayer, thinking the story about warrior women that lived hard and died young a sad and yet romantic notion. The person…woman…who had written the entry certainly knew her stuff about what the Ministry thought of them. And she had mentioned someone named Severus who could only be the Potions master.

Remus entertained the thought of asking Snape about this 'Professor Summers' only for a moment, knowing the dark man would merely sneer and ignore him.

She had also mentioned Dumbledore, but he wrote it off, figuring that she had been a Professor in the past that had made a mistake when writing down the year and had left the journal behind when she had left the school.

Acting on a whim, Lupin pulled out his quill and wrote the date on the next empty page in the book. He mused that it couldn't hurt to write out some of his thoughts, although he had never before kept a journal, seeing them as a rather pointless exercise. However, he felt compelled to write something and not leave the rest of the book blank.

The fact that demetors appeared on the Hogwarts Express tonight is something I feel will foreshadow the coming year. With Sirius Black on the loose and after Harry Potter… It's going to be a trying year. But it's still a dream come true for me.

I've always wanted to teach, but because of my…condition…I never thought such an opportunity would be presented to me. Sometimes I wish all wizards were like Dumbledore and possessed his undeniable ability to look beyond the exterior and see the man on the inside. He has risked so much to allow someone like me to teach. He risked so much allowing me to attend school here as a child. It is because of him I met my three best friends.

Of course, now they're all gone. I am the last. A relic in a world I know I'll never belong in. Sometimes I feel as though I should have died alongside James, Lily, and Peter twelve years ago. And in a very real way, perhaps I did.

I almost wish the woman who wrote the first entry in this journal were here. Her easy acceptance of controversial groups within the Wizarding world makes her someone I wish I would have known. Maybe when I get the chance, I will ask Dumbledore who she was and when she taught here, if she even exists. She might very well be a work of fiction, as that would easily explain the fact that the date on the first page is four years in the future. But I wish she were real. And I believe I will keep her to myself for now.

R.L.

Remus put his quill away and cast an amused eye over his entry. He was surprised to find the experience cathartic. As he thought about Professor Summers, a beautiful and radiant woman in his mind, he was able to forget, even for a short time, the problems he knew the school was bound to face in the coming year.

He grinned at his fancifulness and put the leather book back in the drawer before heading off to bed.


	3. September 2, 2005

September 2, 2005

I woke up early, but decided I was far too nervous to go to the Great Hall for breakfast. I took my time getting dressed, a pair of dark wash flared jeans and a white scoop neck fitted shirt with tight sleeves to the elbow. I left my hair in loose waves and pulled on my black leather boots. They had two-inch heels, pointy toes, and a plethora of buckles going up to just under my knees that would be hidden beneath the wide flares of my pants. In my head, I called them the 'Boots of Buttkicking.' A confidence booster if I ever saw one.

I entered my classroom with two minutes to spare and I leaned back on my desk at the front and watched the kids as they filtered in. I suppose it because of the years of practice, but I find myself profiling people at the strangest times. So naturally, I began to do it to the teens as they came in.

The girl that took the seat directly in front of me was clearly the 'Smart Kid.' She had bushy curly brown hair and expressive chocolate eyes. Her tie was striped red and gold so I knew her to be a Gryffindor. Next to her sat a boy with flaming red hair and a wide grin on his freckled face. I was pegging him as the best friend suffering from unrequited Ducky love. The last member of the little group slid into the desk on the girl's other side. He had messy black hair, round wire rim glasses, and bright green eyes.

From all the snide descriptions I had heard Severus make, I knew I was face to face with the famous Harry Potter. Funny how he looked like a regular kid when he was the savior of the Wizarding world. I guess the two of us were a lot alike in that way. Both of us with stupid destinies we didn't want…

The boy gave me a goofy lopsided grin. I nodded at him, but kept my face pleasantly blank, so as not to show favor to anyone just yet.

A flash of white blond hair walked into the room. My heart leapt, but as my eyes focused more fully, my excitement completely dissipated replaced by avid curiosity.

The boy that sauntered in and sat down could have been Spike's son. His hair was the same shade, although I assumed his was natural and not a bottle job, his cheekbones were sharp enough to cut glass, and he was smirking in an incredibly familiar way. But the more I looked, the more I noticed that was different. Spike's eyes had been smoldering cerulean while the boy's were mischievous silver. He was thin, almost frail looking, and his hair fell into his eyes with a casual elegance.

He raised an eyebrow at me and I realized I had been caught. "I'm sorry," I said as the last of the students took their seats. "At first glance, you looked like a vampire I used to know."

The class fell completely silent at the word 'vampire.' The young man's eyes widened.

I ignored them all with a small smile as I picked up my class roster. I was about to begin the arduous task of putting the faces to the names when I heard it.

"You mean William the Bloody?"

I dropped the parchment onto the floor as I stared openmouthed at the flaxen haired young man.

He took my lack of answer and dumbstruck expression as an affirmative. "He's my great great great grandmother's brother or something," he explained with a wide grin. "You know him?"

I picked up the roster from the ground. "I knew him," I said slowly. "He died a few years ago."

I completed the roll call and the boy, Draco Malfoy, was staring at me intently. I could tell he wanted to ask more questions about Spike, but to his credit, he remained silent.

"Your lessons in Defense Against the Dark Arts have been, thus far, mostly centered on magical creatures and the spells dark wizards might use. I'm here to teach you something completely different. I'm going to teach you about demons."

It was awesome to have the class's rapt attention. It was doing wonders for my ego.

"This world is older than any of you know. Contrary to popular religious mythology, it did not start out as a paradise. For untold eons, demons walked the Earth. They made it their home. Their Hell. But in time, they lost their purchase on this reality. The way was paved for mortal animals. Mankind. All that remains of the Old Ones are vestiges, certain magics, and creatures like vampires."

I watched the girl I had pegged as 'The Brain' trying desperately to write down everything I was saying. Hermione Granger. She was going to be the one with all the questions, so I could only pray that I knew all the answers.

"The books tell us that the last demon to leave this reality fed off a human, mixed their blood. It created a human form possessed, infected by the demon's soul. He bit another and another, and so they walked the Earth, feeding, killing some, mixing their blood with others to make more of their kind. Waiting for the animals to die out and the Old Ones to return."

They were hanging on my every word. I was doing the Happy Dance in my head that I had memorized the Watcher's Council speech about how the world used to be.

"So, can anyone tell me what works for vampire slayage?" I asked, hopping up on the desk and crossing my legs.

There were three hands that shot up into the air. I pointed to a tall brunette boy with large ears. "Yes, Mr.…uh…"

"Longbottom," he supplied.

"Thanks. I will learn all your names, but it might take me to the end of the year, when it won't matter anymore," I chuckled. "Okay, Mr. Longbottom. Vamp Death?"

"A stake to the heart," he answered.

"Good. Five points to Gryffindor. Any others?" I asked. "Yes, Miss Granger?"

"Sunlight," she said primly. I could tell she had the rest of the answers, but she held her tongue.

"Excellent," I grinned. "Five more points to Gryffindor. Anyone else?"

The pale blond boy had his hand raised. I wasn't surprised. "Mr. Malfoy?"

"Beheading," he answered.

I gave Slytherin five points and provided the rest myself. "There's also fire and holy water."

"You can't actually kill a vampire with holy water, can you?" the redhead next to Hermione Granger asked. Ronald Weasley, I believed.

"I have," I replied with a shrug. "But only once and that was by tricking him into drinking it. Other than that, short of having enough holy water to fill a swimming pool, you're probably right. It's more of a repellent than a fatality. Like crosses. Alright," I said, standing and pacing before the group. "Now let's discuss the myths verses the truth."

We spent the rest of class discussing things like coffins, bats, Renfields, and smoke. I thought about telling them that Dracula could actually do all those things, but decided to save that for another day. As the students gathered their books, one black haired girl with a strange upturned nose was suddenly right in front of me.

"Professor Summers?" she sneered. "Why do we have to learn this rubbish? None of us are ever going to run into a vampire anyway."

The class froze; the venom in her voice directed at a teacher probably something they had never heard before.

She wanted me to get angry. I could read it in her eyes. It was a challenge. Clearly, she was one of those people that thought Slayers were subhuman. Didn't help that I wasn't a witch either.

"Where do you live, Miss Parkinson, when you aren't at Hogwarts?" I asked, my eyes boring shamelessly into hers.

"Uh…London," she said, furrowing her brow and obviously having no clue where I was going.

I smirked at her. "Me too. Did you know that, in the past two years, there have been over six hundred unsolved deaths where the bodies had 'neck trauma?' That's just in London alone, not the surrounding areas. What do you think happened to those people? You think they all impaled themselves on BBQ forks?" I exclaimed. "Everyone you pass on the street at night might very well be a vampire. And as a Slayer, it's my sacred duty to kill them. But as long as there is one, they can multiply and they will always be an issue. And Slayers can't be everywhere. So, how is it you figure that doesn't apply to you, Miss Parkinson?" I growled.

She looked shocked for a moment, but she recovered well. She scowled disapprovingly at me and then flipped her short black bob as she stormed out of my classroom.

As the other students filed out, they snickered appreciatively at my answer to the girl. I knew that the Slytherins would be the most opposed to me, since a good chunk of their parents had been Death Eaters. I had killed a lot of them, after all.

I was startled from my thoughts by Draco Malfoy standing in front of me.

"Can you tell me about him?" he asked nervously. "Do I really look like William the Bloody?"

I gave him a sad half smile. "Why don't you come to my office after dinner? I think I have some pictures…"

Draco broke into a huge grin and bowed to me aristocratically before hurrying out of class.

I found myself looking forward to that during the rest of the day. I hadn't been able to talk about Spike since he died. My sister still hated him for something she didn't understand, Giles thought that he had been evil all the way to the end, Willow believed everything Giles said, and Xander…well, as hypocritical as it was, I knew that he thought anything that wasn't human was evil. I wasn't even really sure where he stood on Oz, although he had made nice because of Willow. But he had never been kind to Spike.

And I missed him. I felt as though there was a hole inside me that he had left. An emptiness that, at times, seemed to burn. People pretend that time heals all wounds, but I don't think that's true. Lessens the pain, sure, but some of them never fully heal.

The rest of the day passed easily and before I knew it, dinner had come and gone. I went back to my rooms and dug out all the pictures I could find with Spike in them. There weren't a lot, since none of the Scoobies had liked him much, but there were a few.

I gathered them up and was walking into my office just as Draco entered from the other door. I motioned for him to sit and wordlessly handed him the photograph on the top of my pile as I sat behind my desk.

It depicted Spike tied to a chair that Thanksgiving at Giles' apartment. I was in it as well, crouched behind him, checking his ropes, and peeking my head over his shoulder to snark at him. He was glaring venomously at me.

I watched the boy run his fingers down his cheekbones, staring intently at the photo.

"You really do look like him," I said softly. "Must be a family resemblance."

"It sounded like you were friends. Why are you tying him to a chair?" he asked incredulously.

I laughed heartily, and it was the first time I had actually done that in…well…I couldn't even remember. "It's a really long story."

Draco looked up at me very seriously. "I'd like to know it."

I sighed, not because I didn't want to tell him the story, but because I had no clue how to start. "Well, I guess we can begin where I met William the Bloody, or Spike, as he preferred to be called. It was eight years ago, when I was sixteen. I had just staked a vampire in an alley behind a club, and someone started clapping."

"Nice work, luv."

"Who are you?"

"You'll find out on Saturday."

"What happens on Saturday?"

"I kill you."

"It's not like I hadn't gotten that threat before. Hell, it wasn't even the first time that week. But there was something about Spike. He was so cocky…so arrogant…I was actually a bit scared of him," I said with a fond smile. "We fought, more than once, but something unforeseen always happened so neither of us could get in a death blow."

Draco Malfoy was entranced by my tale. Occasionally, he would look down at the picture clutched in his hand but, more often than not, he kept his silver eyes glued to mine.

"But a few months after that, we had a problem. A vampire named Angelus was trying to open a portal that would suck this world into Hell. So Spike came to me and suggested a truce. So we could, you know…avert the apocalypse," I said with a wry grin.

"But he was evil!" Draco exclaimed. "He was evil and wanted to save the world?"

"Well, Mr. Malfoy, Spike was…he wasn't a normal vampire. See, Slayers are taught that vampires have no emotions because they lack a soul, but there was no denying that Spike was completely in love with his sire, Drusilla."

Even after this long, it was hard for me to say her name without complete distaste.

"He was a paradox amongst all the other vampires I've ever met. He embraced elements of humanity like love, loyalty, and honor. And human food, like Buffalo wings and chocolate. Drinking and smoking. So, when he said he wanted to save the world, it wasn't because it was the right thing to do, it was just because he liked it," I explained.

"We like to talk big, vampires do. "I'm going to destroy the world." It's just tough guy talk. Struttin' around with your friends over a pint of blood. The truth is, I like this world. You've got... dog racing, Manchester United, and you've got people. Billions of people walking around like Happy Meals with legs. It's all right here…"

Draco was leaning forward in his chair now as I wove the story around him.

"So, we made a deal. If he helped me stop Angelus, he and his sire could leave Sunnydale undusty."

I closed my eyes, trying to remember everything and yet cut it down in such a way that I could tell the boy what I knew and not take days.

"After Dru broke up with him, left him for a chaos demon if I remember right, he came back. We fought a couple more times and then he was captured by a military organization call the Initiative. They put a microchip…"

"A what?" Draco interrupted.

"A microchip. It's like a little computer…" I trailed off as I realized he was still staring blankly at me. "Like a spell that hurt him every time he hurt a human. And he came to us, my little band of world savers, for help. So that's what you're seeing in that picture. He had just come to us and I didn't trust him, hence the tying up."

Draco looked down at the picture, turning it this way and that as if life's answers were held within its image. And, not for the first time, I wondered why he felt the need to know about Spike so badly. Sure he was his great…grandcestor, but I had never felt the need to find out about anyone on my family tree.

"So…uh…he found out that he could still kill demons, so he started helping us. At first, he did it because we paid him, but then...he fell in love with m…with someone from our group," I corrected hurriedly. It didn't look like young Mr. Malfoy had noticed my slip, but I was sure the dark scowling figure leaning in my doorway had.

I handed Draco another picture. "This is him and my kid sister, Dawn, having hot chocolate," I explained. They were sitting at the counter talking. Dawnie was grinning at something Spike had said and he was smirking. I think my mom had taken the picture before things got bad.

"The girl he loved was terrified of loving him back. You see, she didn't want to believe he could love her. He was a demon and that went against everything she had been taught. But Spike was different. And after he allowed himself to be tortured by a Hellgod and didn't give away the group's huge secret, she knew what he felt was real. And over time, she began to love him, too."

Draco looked dreamily at me and it was a strange expression on his Spike-like face. I could only hope he wasn't bound to his ancestor's fate.

"But the girl was afraid," I continued softly. "Her friends would never approve because they hated him, so she told him he was a disgusting soulless demon and that she could never love him."

A tear slowly rolled down my cheek. I knew Draco saw it. I knew Snape saw it, but I had no desire to see the sneer I knew was going to erupt on his face, so I turned away from both of them to stare at the stars emerging from outside my window.

"He went to Africa and faced the trials of a demon that grants wishes to win back his soul, to be the kind of man he thought she deserved. And when her friends turned their backs on her, saying she was being careless and rash in her strategy to fight their Big Bad, he was the only one that stood by her. And she knew she needed to tell him the truth about what she felt, but they were coming up on a huge battle where the fate of the world was at stake. She didn't want either of them to be distracted, so she decided to wait."

I got up and walked to the window, glaring down at the darkened grounds as I tried to find an eloquent way to finish the story without crying.

"And so one morning, we all marched into the Hellmouth," I said softly, my voice breaking in the middle. "We fought, we bled, and when we crawled out, Spike was gone. Sacrificed himself so the rest of us could live. So the girl never got to tell him that she loved him."

I sighed and turned back to my captive audience. "And that's most of what I know about the last years of his life." I handed Malfoy another picture.

"This is the two of us at my twenty first birthday party," I told him.

We were sitting behind the couch at the old house on Revello Drive talking. Just talking. But the looks on both of our faces spoke volumes. Love. Longing. A dash of sheepish fear. I had wondered after first seeing the picture if our emotions were always there, written out and obvious for everyone to see.

"Other than that, what I know about William the Bloody is only basic. He was turned in 1880 and became part of the Scourge of Europe. In 1900, he killed a Slayer in China. In '43, he was capture by Nazis, but escaped. He went to Woodstock and in 1977, killed another Slayer in New York." I paused for a moment, debating. "If you want to know what he was like in the twenty or so years after he was turned...I know a guy. I can drop him a line and see if he feels like sharing."

Draco's eyes widened at my suggestion. "What do you mean you know…"

"Mr. Malfoy," Professor Snape interrupted from the doorway. The boy jumped and twisted in his chair, staring at the man in surprise. "It's time to return to your house dormitory now."

Draco nodded sullenly and handed me back the pictures. His fingers lingered on the last one and I pushed it back into his grasp.

"Keep it," I said with a small smile.

He grinned at me and followed Professor Snape from the office.

I pulled a spare piece of parchment from my desk and dipped my black quill in ink, intending to do just what I had said I would before I lost the nerve.

Angel,

Owl post. Wacky, right? But not as much as the fact that I'm a Professor at a magic school. How's that for wow?

So, I know it's Evita-like to not talk to you for…gee…two years and immediately ask you for help, but that's pretty much exactly what I plan to do here.

I have a student in one of my classes that is…well, was related to Spike…

I paused, chewing on the pinky nail of my left hand. I stared at the paper. Angel wasn't going to be happy seeing that name written out in his letter and we hadn't exactly parted on the best of terms.

When the dirty rundown bus pulled in at the Hyperion Hotel, I was bitchy and tired, devastated and angry. The man I loved was gone and his death had leeched the color from my world. During the week that followed, we stayed with Angel and his group as they made the big move to some law firm or something. I didn't care enough to pay attention. The vampire tried to talk to me on several occasions about the future status of our "relationship" and whether or not I was going to be cookies any time soon. I punched him and the next day, Dawn and I left for Rome. I hadn't spoken to him since and I felt a bit guilty about it since I did make the ridiculous baked goods speech only a week and a half before. But hell, it felt like it had been an eternity.

His name is Draco and his great great grand something was Spike's sibling when he was human. The kid was curious after he found out I knew the infamous William the Bloody.

You wouldn't believe how much this kid looks like Spike. The hair, the cheekbones, even his ears. If his eyes weren't liquid silver in color, (I kid you not!) I might have believed I was looking at Spike as a teenager. It was weird at first. Not so much now.

Anyway, I've told Draco most of what I know about the exploits of William the Bloody. But I was wondering if there was any way you might be able to write to him and share a story or two from when Spike was just turned or something like that. I think he'd really appreciate it.

I wrote out instructions on how to get my new owl, Acerbus, to deliver a letter back. I tied the parchment to his leg and watched him fly of into the night. I had thought Dumbledore was nuts when he had presented me with the owl. I couldn't figure out whom exactly I was going to write, seeing as all the wizards I knew were already inside the castle. But then I figured I could always write to Dawn. Sure, the people in her dorm would get suspicious of an owl tapping at her window all the time, but hey, that wasn't my problem. My sister could cover for herself when it came to cases of extreme weirdness at this point in her life. She was an adult now, after all.

I sat down at my desk and tugged my journal from its hiding place. I had tried in the past two years to write as little about Spike as I could get away with, even though not a day went by that I didn't think of him and feel the acute pain of his loss. But in talking to Draco, someone that wasn't going to judge me, about him for the first time since his death was cathartic. I readied my quill and opened the book to the second page…

My jaw must have hit the edge of the desk, I was so shocked at what I saw. Writing. And far more beautiful and flowing writing than mine would ever be. I let the ink filled quill clatter to the desk as I leaned dumbfounded over the entry.

It wasn't long. In fact, it barely covered the page, but I could almost feel the emotion rolling off it in staggeringly crushing waves. The third paragraph, where he spoke of feeling as though he no longer fit in the world…

I knew what that was like. The last two years with the Scoobies had felt like that. But at least my friends were, for the most part, still alive. This person, this R.L…it sounded like all his friends were dead. And that last part? About how he wanted to meet the writer of the first entry? It made me feel…

But all of this paled to utter insignificance in light of the fact that clearly someone had snuck into my room and read my journal! And, whoever it was, they were obviously insane, claiming my entry was four years from when they were.

I sighed heavily and looked around the room, searching for evidence that there had been someone else there. Nothing was out of place that I could see. My eyes fell onto the portrait next to the outer door. A vampire.

"How long have you been in this room?" I asked him.

He glared at me for a moment. "Over fifty years," he sneered at me.

"So, you can tell me if someone got into my office today?" I asked, although I said it as a statement.

"God," the painting complained. "What is it with people in this office asking that? No one's been in here but you, the kid, and the greasy overgrown bat from the dungeons!" With that, he stalked out of frame.

"Hey!" I called after him. "What do you mean about people in this office?"

But it's not like he was going to come back and clue me in out of the evilness of his painted heart. And he could have been lying, but I didn't really think he would bother. 'R.L.' seemed pretty damn benign, so it wouldn't have made sense to hide his presence. And I doubted he was writing in my journal to hurt me in some way. That's the only reason I could think of that a vampire, albeit a painted one, would conceal him. That and he mentioned that someone had asked him that before.

It made me wish Willow or Giles was there. I had never exactly been a dab hand at solving the mysteries like they had, but I was going out on a mental limb and assuming that this R.L. character hadn't really been there today, just as the painting had told me. And his entry was dated four years before mine was…

I could conjecture about alternate realities taking place in the same space, but that didn't feel quite right. But then again, channeling Andrew never did.

I picked up my quill.

September 2, 2005

Well, I wish I knew what was going on here. When I opened my journal tonight, there was a new entry that I didn't write. According to the painting on the wall, no one entered the office today that I was unaware of. So that begs the question, who exactly is R.L. and how did he manage to come by my journal?

The entry is dated September 1, 2001. Four years ago. I've come up with a few ideas of how that's possible, but each of them is more unlikely than the last. I even have one where R.L. is a teeny tiny man that lives in the secret drawer and the only reason he thinks it's 2001 is because he doesn't get out enough! Yeah, that one is definitely the worst of them all!

So I guess I'll just have to address the guy and pray for some answers.

R.L.

Who are you? You seem like such a sad sort of person. You spoke of a 'condition.' What does that mean? And why is it you seek someone that doesn't judge the groups that your 'Ministry of Magic' looks down on?

And why the hell am I writing to you? You probably don't even exist and are some elaborate joke to drive me crazy! I somehow didn't actually consider that possibility until now. It's probably no coincidence that this guy sounds so great. You know, with the dreams of teaching, praising my open-mindedness, and just enough tragedy to make me want to hug him to take some of it away?

Yeah, now that I think about it, there must be a spell or something. Maybe Severus is screwing with me. Or that Parkinson girl. That makes me wonder if I'm even qualified to teach these kids anything at all. I'm not a witch. I know next to nothing about magic. I don't even know how to tell if a spell of some sort was done on this, but really, it's the only thing that makes sense.

So much for writing about how nice it was to finally talk about Spike. I wish things had happened differently in that hole. It should have been me that died, not him.

Buffy

I shut the book, completely convinced of my revelation halfway through the entry. It was the only explanation. Someone was playing with me. Which was too bad. R.L. seemed like a really nice person.


End file.
